


Decency

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (a lot), Kinkmeme, M/M, and akira has no shame, he has no grace, let ryuji say fuck, maid dress ryuji, yusuke's a hopeless artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: The problem isn't the fact that Ryuji's wearing a maid dress, or how incredibly good he looks in it. But it's also not Yusuke's fault that Ryuji lacks the ability to understand his positioning, or that Akira takes it as an open invitation to go down on him.Right?





	Decency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EndovaElixabete](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndovaElixabete/gifts), [pigsocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigsocks/gifts).



> Written for [this kinkmeme prompt](https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=926689#cmt926689). I'd say I have no regrets, but I might have a few? Either way, it's 1:40, I need to get up at 3:45, so yeah, I'm sorry for any spelling or grammar errors ~~or the fact that I've really never written smut and I'm sorry if this is in any way cringy okay bye enjoy this y'all~~.

“Didn't I tell ya, like, fifteen times now? 's all for Ann's stupid party.”

There was a deep frown on Ryuji's forehead, his arms crossed in an annoyed fashion, and he was pouting – a fact that he, that much Yusuke was sure about, didn't even notice.

They had made themselves at home in Ann's room, with her being out with Makoto, Futaba and Haru to, so they had called it, _buy last-minute snacks for the party,_ which was apparently to celebrate Ann's first time on the front page of some beauty magazine – a thing which Yusuke did not quite understand, for he found said magazines to be unnecessarily filled with with advertisements, recipes and questionable life advice.

Either way, the reason Ryuji was yet again defending himself towards their friend was because he had been called out for his unusual attire multiple times now. Yusuke hadn't paid much attention to the bickering of the two, because he would have to lie if he said that those tight white stockings didn't play around Ryuji's muscular thighs quite favorably.

Speaking of which, said stockings were really only the icing on the wonderful cake, with Ryuji covered in a fluffy red and white maid dress, his hair blazoned with multiple pink and red hair clips and huge ribbons on his shoulder blades. But even though Yusuke hadn't listened to both Ryuji and Akira much, he was definitely well aware of why their leader was pointing out parts of the outfit over and over. 

The problem, quite obviously, was Ryuji's absolute inability to reflect on his own posture and self-presentation, for he lacked about everything that you would usually expect from a maid – from the rather fragile, cute body-shape all the way to a proper way of sitting on  a chair .  Instead of at least closing his legs, he spread them, and if it were anyone else, Yusuke would have imagined they knew how provocative it looked, but Ryuji,  already  focusing on his manga  again , was quite obviously blissfully unaware of the fact that even if one didn't  _want_ to stare at him, it was incredibly hard to tear one's eyes from the soft, white,  _frilled_ underwear he wore, displaying  him fully to both Yusuke, who wasn't afraid of drawing what he saw in detail, and Akira, who – as Yusuke noticed when looking over – had a stern look on his face, arms crossed, and shook his head continuously as if in endless disbelief.

Thinking about it, he probably was.

He looked back, noticing that Ryuji had shifted positions rather unfortunately. The lighting now made it very hard to get a grasp  of the dot-pattern on the dress, and the correct form of the frills on the bottom of the dress.

“If you were so kind to immediately return to your previous position, I would be highly thankful, Ryuji.”

“Return to- dude, are you drawin' me?!”

Surprisingly, his first instinct didn't seem to finally pose decently or show any sort of shame – instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and tensing his thighs enough that Yusuke could clearly make out a stiff muscle even from his position a good few meters away.

“That does it.”

It was then that Akira finally snapped, pushing himself off the bed he'd been sitting on, walking the few steps over to Ryuji and pushing him back into the chair properly before dropping on his knees without much of a ceremony.

“Dude, wha- woah, woah, Yusuke is _right fuckin' there_ in case you've – _fuck –_ forgotten!”

“That's his problem, then.”

It didn't need much more than the faint pink and the disbelieving look on Ryuji's face for Yusuke to have found an even better thing to sketch. One of these days, he figured, he should probably thank Akira for caring so little about an audience, but he supposed that doing so while the latter was busy thoroughly biting the thighs of his best friend would not be the greatest idea. Instead, Yusuke tried to get a better angle, one that let him depict both Akira's teeth digging into soft, reddening skin and also Ryuji's hands, both shaking next to his body, seemingly torn between grabbing Akira's hair to pull him closer or to push him away.

“F-fuck, he…he just keeps sittin' there 'n…fuckin' draws…God, _Akira_ , why are you like- _ugh-”_

But Akira didn't answer, instead shoving up the fabric of the dress enough so that he could properly grab into Ryuji's other thigh, kneading the tight skin, leaving red marks there, too. While anyone else would probably have called them out for being absolutely mindless and displaying pornographic actions, Yusuke was _on fire_ , hardly able to sketch all the things that he was able to see. He could practically feel the impact of every shiver going through Ryuji whenever Akira's lips met his skin again, the force of his hips trying to move but being held in place, the incredible amount of self-control it took him to bite his lower lip and close his eyes tightly in order not to moan-

Yusuke wouldn't lie and pretend that it wasn't arousing _at all_ , but the artistic part of his mind was so much stronger, wanted to keep this intimacy forever, burn it into his mind like a branding and recall it whenever his muse dared to leave him hanging ever again.

“Y-you're both-”

Ryuji was panting, each word audibly a challenge on its own. He gave in to his visible desire of burying a hand in Akira's hair, stroked it gently and eased a bit at the sound of the content hum he got as a reply, but still buried his face in his other hand shortly before dropping it again.

“F-fuckin'…impossible.”

An uncontrolled moan escaped him, but Yusuke could only guess that Akira had made his way up to the frilled lingerie, because he couldn't have torn his eyes from the innocent, pure look on Ryuji's face even if he'd wanted to – which, in all honesty, he didn't, for the sight was truly enjoyable.

He sketched more than one angle, and due to it being at differing points throughout the act, he felt like he was able to grasp a reasonable amount of valuable information regarding the natural beauty of the human sexuality. It was a sight he knew was rare to be depicted in art first hand, so he truly valued the opportunity to do so, although he did have to admit it was a rather unexpected outcome.

“T-This better make for the best fuckin' thing you ever drew, you freak.”

Before Yusuke had the time to defend himself, to explain – yet _again_ – that he was not some sort of creepy pervert that intended on watching or drawing any of this for arousing purposes, Akira's head popped up from under the dress, a questioning sound coming from him before he proposed:

“Maybe we can be his piece of art on the next exposition he takes part in.”

“Dude, no way in fuckin' _hell_! I won't let- Oh, _fuck!_ ”

The last word was a little high-pitched, for Akira had already returned to his self-proclaimed duty of leaving big, purple marks on Ryuji's legs, all the way up to his hips, stopping right before the quite visibly wet lingerie again and _again_ until a hand on the back of his hand pushed him closer, causing him to pull the frilled fabric halfway down to Ryuji's knees. The soft sound he made in return tingled on Yusuke's senses right in unison with the perfect triangle of clear air between the chair and Ryuji's arched back.

“I never believed your language could manage to get even less graceful, but you never fail to impress me, Ryuji.”

“D-don't say it like a…fuckin'…compliment. Oh god _damn_ Akira. Y-Yusuke, I swear, g-get the idea right outta your…art-infested weirdo-head. I…I ain't your fuckin' hoe to- ah, _god-”_

He sunk deeper into the chair, shaking his head, almost looking desperate about what he was supposed to do. It was a sight Yusuke wished he could understand better, but it wasn't like he had ever experienced it first-hand like Ryuji did, right now. Something about Akira's touch seemed to be too addicting to deny it, which honestly wasn't much of a surprise. His whole _being_ was highly addictive, Yusuke could admit that openly without any valuation to it.

He returned to working on the sketches, eventually deciding to change his point of view and get up to get a better sight of the position Akira was in. To him, it didn't seem unnatural to find himself standing behind Ryuji to look over his shoulder, but for whatever reason, he got called out for it.

“Oh _shit_ you _creep_. What now? You gonna- you gonna team up with this dude in drivin' me insane?”

Without second thought, Yusuke put his sketch book on the table next to himself, now towering over Ryuji to have a similar sight as he did. He couldn't deny the sexual tension in the air, and it fascinated him, almost as much as the irregular, hasty movement of Ryuji's chest whenever he took a breath, or the way his free hand started burying into the fabric of the dress, tearing on it with trembling fingers. For reasons he wouldn't have been able to explain, Yusuke felt the sudden desire to reach out and _touch_ Ryuji, as foreign as the idea would normally sound to him. He wanted to feel the warm, red skin, the faint drops of sweat on the tips of his short hair, the warm, uncontrolled breaths-

It was only when Akira looked up again, an unnaturally devilish smile on his lips, and shortly nodded before saying: “Go for it” in a deep, throaty voice that Yusuke found himself unable to deny himself this wish. When he reached out for the surprisingly soft skin, Ryuji flinched, but then seemingly decided that it was too late for it to matter, and leaned his cheek against the hand with a soft hum.

As much as he wanted to see it from a purely artistic point of view, Yusuke couldn't help personally enjoying the way Ryuji's skin felt against his own, the way his shaky moans send shivers right through both of their bodies, or how he melted in the hands of both of his friends.

Honestly, though, he'd brought it upon himself with his graceless attitude.

“Sh-shit, I swear to…fuckin' god if…either of you ever...”

He moaned loudly just once before deciding to bite his own fingers in order to keep it in. The sight was incredibly thrilling, and Yusuke couldn't help trailing down the line of cold sweat to Ryuji's chin, leaning over a bit to take in the sight of uncontrolled emotions on his face, caressing the warm skin and sliding a hand into the dress, way down to Ryuji's collarbone, feeling every single sharp, uncontrolled breath as if it were his own.

“I…I-”

Ryuji winced silently, his eyes closing tightly when he came, the sight so unbelievably good that Yusuke almost regretted having put his sketch book to the sight – almost, because the fact that Ryuji's hand now reached for his, grabbing it tightly as if he were looking for an anchor to cling to, was undeniably as good as everything else Yusuke had learned before.

In some sort of weird united fashion, they all fell silent, the room filled with nothing but Ryuji's heavy panting for _at least_ a minute or two, although Akira had put his head in Ryuji's lap with a content grin on his face, most likely very aware of the fact that there was smudge on his face, and equally indifferent about it.

“I hate…b-both of you. Just to be…fuckin' clear about that.”

In all honesty, Ryuji failed to even _try_ and sound honestly mad. Meanwhile, Yusuke admittedly lacked the proper reading of the situation needed in order _not_ to immediately return to painting. The last few minutes alone had given him enough inspiration to last for a week at least, and when would be a better time to get started than right away.

“I must say, this was truly inspiring,” he said while sitting back down on the bed, hardly paying attention the annoyed groan coming from Ryuji.

“You know what'll be inspirin'? The girls walkin' in on this idiot here with cum on his stupid face.”

He looked back up from the sketch book to find that Akira was blissfully resting on Ryuji's lap, and if he didn't know better, Yusuke would claim that he'd fallen asleep.

“This, too, is a sight I wouldn't want to miss out on capturing.”

Ryuji groaned loudly and eventually, Akira laughed in return.

When the girls finally returned from their seemingly endless shopping-trip, nothing had changed from before they had left.

…well, except for Ryuji suddenly having learned to sit like a real lady, maybe.


End file.
